In Deep Water
by FarmerBill
Summary: Elanor Doe is afraid of the dark. Too bad she carries it with her.
1. Prologue: Lost and Found

**_Suddenly I saw the cold and rook-delighting heaven,_**

**_That seemed as though ice burned and was but the more ice,_**

**_And thereupon imagination and heart were driven,_**

**_So wild that every casual thought of that and this vanished._**

_The Cold Heaven – William Butler Yeats_

_Cold._

_That's all she could feel – all she had ever known. The numbing ever-present cold and the darkness that accompanied it. Even when she was allowed out of the chains, she was never allowed to see. Her doctor was the only warmth she knew – and even that was just the human temperature of his hands as they pushed her down, examined her, looking for her value, and inevitably, continuously, finding none._

_She was a failed experiment, a surplus of money and space. Her two companions, always silent, but always constant were of more value – so she was told. They were better than her, more useful. She was nothing and they were everything. _

_They said it, and she grew to know it, deep in her frozen bones. _

_Every day could be her last, any minute they could decide to kill her, dispose of the waste of resources. It just made her eager to please. When they let her out, she would do as they said, do whatever they asked, whatever was ordained. Because the only things she had were the cold and her life. _

_In a way, it was easy to be taken by them. Them, with their righteousness and self-proclaimed heroism, rescuing her from a hell that was her life. They were blinding in their light. All she knew how to do was obey – and so she did. She went willingly, she surrendered to their new doctors, their new questions, because she couldn't go back to the dark. Couldn't go back to being alone with her own mind and failures. _

_It took years to learn that she could be more. That she was allowed to want the light and the warmth of light. She supposed she should have seen the false sense of security she had adopted. Of course it was always too late for such reflection. _


	2. Chapter 1: Shadowed

**_Thou art all ice. Thy kindness freezes._**

_Richard III – William Shakespeare_

* * *

The sirens were a normal occurrence – she was used to them, after more than four years with SHIELD. Each of them had their own meaning; she'd absently memorised them all after all the repeats of the drills. Still, even with the impending evacuation, she could take some time to appreciate the neat efficiency of the agents that were running through the corridors, no hint of panic on their faces. She didn't have the luxury of leaving. Not yet anyway. She still had a job to do.

She was sure above her, on civilian level, it was a little more frantic, a lot less coordinated – but down where she was, the subterranean levels of the compound, most personnel already cleared out, it was almost peaceful now. Just her, her partner, a bunch of doctors – and an unstable energy source with boundless potential for destruction. As she said; _almost_ peaceful.

She could feel when Fury was approaching. The dull awareness of his body heat tickled on the back of her neck and she looked up to one of her partners. Clint Barton – Hawkeye to everyone but his inner circle – nodded slightly, and she turned to the nearest lab tech. "The Director's on his way in. Keep it short and sharp." She said briefly. The man himself strode in, just as she turned away.

"Talk to me, doctor."

"Director." Dr. Selvig looked frazzled – though he always looked frazzled, so she couldn't really tell if he was genuinely worried.

Fury nodded in greeting to the man. "Is there anything we know for certain?"

"The Tesseract is misbehaving." Selvig said, with a funny twist of his mouth. She resisted the urge to shake her head. This wasn't the time for the doctor's quirks.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" Fury asked dangerously.

Selvig met him, directing him over to the equipment. "Its not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she's… behaving." She tuned him out, turning again to look at Clint, who was already looking at her, raising an eyebrow.

_"'She'?_" he mouthed to her, pulling a face. She had to fight a smile. Always the joker. If there was a way to find something to poke fun at in a sticky situation – Clint would find it, and abuse it, until he was not only at risk from the task at hand, but from the ire of his partners. Natasha Romanoff, the infamous Black Widow – and the other half of her pseudo mentorship – was even less tolerant of his ill-timed sense of humour than she was.

"-Where's Barton and Doe?"

"The Hawk? Up in his nest as usual. Frosty the Snowwoman's probably around somewhere too." She knew the doctor meant no harm in his nickname for I'd been called a lot worse, and he never had any particular malice in his voice when he spoke to her – unlike the usual fear and disdain of the general populace. She stepped into the light as Fury's eyes looked over at them, watching as he raised a hand to his ear and turning his comm on.

"Agent Barton, Doe, report."

She waited until Clint had landed beside her before she proceeded to the Director. Even after all the years she'd been a part of SHIELD, she'd never been able to approach Fury by herself. The way he looked at her unsettled her. Like he was constantly considering her, weighing her up, determining her value to him. It made her remember the cold.

"I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things." Fury said calmly, though there was an edge of rebuke in his voice.

"Well, I see better from a distance." Clint retorted, eyes roaming as he spoke.

"And you, Doe? Do you see in the dark or something? Lurking in the shadows seems a little counterproductive." Fury's good eye focussed on her.

She kept her face still. "I find that my presence is considered… counterproductive." She said carefully, all too aware at the sudden recoil from one of the technicians, as the three of them approached the doctor. From the way Clint shifted slightly, mouth tightening, she knew he hadn't missed it either. He never missed anything.

Fury continued as if nothing had been said. "Well have you seen anything that might have set this thing off?" he gestured to the Tesseract, as a white-coated woman called in a warning as it flickered before them.

"No one's come or gone. And Selvig's clean. No contacts, no Ims." He stepped up onto the dais where the Tesseract sat secured. She remained beneath them. The Tesseract gave out a chill she could feel, an odd, cold pull. She could sense heat signatures, it was part of her ability, could feel temperature acutely – could scan a room for bodies before she had even crossed the doorway, but the Tesseract was nothing she had ever experienced. "If there was any tampering, sir, it wasn't at this end."

Ah yes. Clint's theory.

"At this end?" Fury asked.

She stepped up beside them. "Yes, sir. The Cube, is a doorway to the other end of space, right?" she explained, meeting Clint's eyes.

"Doors open from both sides." He finished for her. The Tesseract sparked again, and she took a step back – nervous.

"Barton – I don't think-" As she spoke, the Tesseract emitted two quick pulses, and the room rocked around them. It didn't seem to give any signs of stopping, and she tugged on the fabric of Fury's coat and Clint's uniform, pulling them away from the energy source as they stared at its magnificent, terrifying light. With a low whir, it began to swirl, energy coalescing in the centre of the holding device – before a brilliant plume of energy shot forth, opening what looked to be a vortex.

Slowly, she pulled off her gloves. Her fingers tingled, and a familiar and comforting coolness spread across her exposed skin. The startling blast of blue energy that rippled out from the vortex distracted her enough that she lost focus on her energy. She bit back a curse, as burning with the blue flames of the remanent of the Tesseract's energy, a crouched figure was revealed.

* * *

Warmth.

Midgard was warmer than he had expected – though after the all-consuming black cold of space, anything would seem temperate. Still, the insignificant beings were wrapped in their coats and uniforms and crude armour – as if it was winter inside the cosy little room.

They even had the gall to raise their primitive weapons to him, black and shining in the dull light from the Tesseract's energy.

Loki Laufeyson had come to Midgard as a salvation, and already they were threatening senseless insubordination. He couldn't help but smile.

"Sir!" the call was loud, head-splitting after the silence he had endured. "Please put down the spear."

_The spear._

He looked scornfully from the one-eyed man to his two companions, both of them as unintimidating and worthless as every other human in the realm. _Spear, as if it was some crude weapon of theirs. _This was no spear. And he would not put it down.

As if it could sense his intentions, the wonderful weapon alighted in his grip – power igniting from the end, and he delighted in the panic he was able to see on the men's faces as they dove out of the way of the blast – the woman spinning as it clipped her shoulder, crumpling to the ground. He only paused for a mere moment to appreciate it – as they opened fire on him. He leapt at the closest, slamming the sceptre through his weak chest. In a smooth movement, he turned, hurling two of his smallest knives at the other annoyances – sending them to the floor.

They kept shooting at him – as if they could not get it through their tiny heads that _they_ _could not win._

But one of them – the focussed grey-eyed man – managed to clip his cheek. It stung, adding fury to his power. It did not take long for the room to fall silent under his wrath.

But then, movement from the wall. He turned – already firing upon the slight figure of the woman. She would fall again, die, under the direct force of the power he wielded-

A great wall of ice sprung up, and his sceptre's blast crashed harmlessly upon it – shattering the ice, but leaving the woman unharmed. His momentary surprise was enough to give her a running start. She didn't jump at him, just swung at him – and he could see her fist glistening with the same ice she'd seemingly conjured from nowhere.

He could have laughed as he dodged her swing, gripping her wrist. As suspected, her skin was well-below freezing, and as suspected, she stared at him in shock, even as she attempted to spin out of his grip. If he had been a human, he supposed it would have worked. She was strong, quick and well trained. But he was a god. And he was _ice_. He pinned her to his chest, as she bucked against him. Now, he did laugh. "You are a spirited little thing, aren't you." He could feel her temperature dropping against him as she attempted to freeze him, skin hardening under his grasp. "Don't waste your energy, pet." He whispered, raising the sceptre. "I am made of ice." He murmured, and as she turned her head to look at him, crystalline-blue eyes wide with dismay, he touched the tip of the sceptre to her chest – and let his outward skin melt away, showing her his true form.

The stark horror in her eyes melted away as the sceptre did its work. He watched in satisfaction as her clear blue irises faded and swirled into a deeper teal as the sceptre's power overcame her. He didn't have long to admire his good work as he stepped back – a gunshot making him hiss in surprise, whirling to grasp the wrist of the grey-eyed man that had shot at him. Loki searched his eyes. This one, like the woman, was a little different. "You have heart." He said, and raised the sceptre again. Once again, the man's will drained away under the sceptre, sliding his gun back into his holster.

He took a few others, but he wasn't stupid. He could hear the one-eyed man taking the Tesseract. "Please don't." he said, as the man made to leave. "I still need that."

"This doesn't have to get any messier." The man attempted. Loki could see the panic he was trying to conceal.

"Of course it does. I've come too far for anything else. I am Loki, of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose." He said, feeling almost manic in his glee.

"Loki, brother of Thor." A wave of irritation shattered his euphoria like a brick to a window. _Why was he to be constantly burdened with the connotations of that oaf? _He turned on the doctor, ready to kill.

"We have no quarrel with your people." Once again, the one-eyed man spoke.

He couldn't help himself, and turned back to the foolish mortal. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot."

"Are you planning to step on us?" The man asked.

Loki grinned, pacing in front of the man, prowling, proud. "I come with glad tidings. Of a world made free."

"Free from what?"

"Freedom." He said simply. "Freedom is life's greatest lie. Once you accept that, in your heart," he turned on the doctor, this _Selvig_, that dared utter his brother's name – and claimed him. "You will know peace."

"Yeah, you say peace. I think you mean the other thing." The man said noncommittally.

Loki twitched. There, in the back of his awareness – mutterings, from the captured ones. From the woman, the man. The man spoke aloud.

"Sir, Director Fury is stalling." Loki looked to him as he strode closer. He smiled at the man, both for his loyalty, and at his obvious need for a leader, a 'sir' he could follow. All humans were mindless like that. Only he could see it. "This place is about to blow, and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us."

"Like the pharaohs of old." Fury sang lowly.

"He's right. The portal is collapsing in on itself." Selvig said, and he turned another small flicker of irritation making him grind his teeth. "We've got maybe two minutes, before this goes critical."

Loki turned to the man. "Well then." He barely needed to push. The man raised his gun, shooting at his former Director. Fury crumpled with a groan. The woman, still standing where he had left her, didn't move an inch – staring straight ahead. "Come." He called to her, and for a second, she stayed still. He pushed, sliding into her a little further, focussing on I visibly shuddered, body lurching forwards as if pulled by an invisible string. _Interesting_. She would need some further work. He smiled as he strode towards the exit. _He had plenty of time to give her… individual attention._

_I will unmake you, Elanor Doe._


	3. Chapter 2: Buried

**_On the hungry craving wind,  
My Spectre follows thee behind.  
'He scents thy footsteps in the snow,  
Wheresoever thou dost go._**

_Broken Love - William Blake_

* * *

It was like being back in the dark. It was like she had returned to the cold, lightless, hopeless place she thought she had been rescued from. Of course – she had never really left. It had always been there, in her mind, haunting her nights and her darkest moments. Only now – there was nowhere to hide from it. She was trapped there.

The only difference… was _him_.

He was there.

_Loki_.

He was there. Everywhere. In her mind, staring at her own reflection through her own eyes, underneath her skin, chilling her in a way the ice never had. Slimy, and intrusive, and sickeningly wrong. He was _there_.

_Pet._

He called her.

_Pet._

He was _always _calling her.

_Come, pet. Sit, pet. Good, pet. Pretty, pet. My, pet. My, my, my, mine, mine, all mine – you are mine and you will never be yourself, because you are nothing. _

She couldn't cry, couldn't scream, couldn't fight, even if she wanted to. He controlled her. He moved her, made her smile at him, made her sit by his side, made him bow to him, made her _kneel_…

Part of her just wanted to submit, completely, do it all on her own accord.

_Yes. Submit, pet. It's all you're good at. All you know how to do, my poor, little, pretty pet. _

He _was_ right. It was all she knew. All she'd ever known.

Back at the before-place, she had been kept isolated, blindfolded when she was out of her cell, the only face she knew was the grizzled visage of her doctor. The man who made her what she was. Ice, and fear and submission – this inhuman, human _thing_. Then, when SHIELD had found her, left alone, abandoned by the people who had made her as they hurried to leave before they were captured, she had folded easily to them as well. They questioned her for months, monitored her for years, trained her, kept her close as to keep her under control. She even questioned her relationship to the two people who had been entrusted with her adjustment. Natasha and Clint were _spies_. They could have been no more than her handlers all this time and she would not know. Because she was desperate to belong.

_You belong nowhere. Only with me. You and I are ice. We are unlovable. Ice cannot be loved. Only I understand, pet. That is why it is easy to follow. Because you know you must. _

But she had thought they were her friends, the closest thing to a relationship she had ever had-

**_NO._**

…Ice cannot love. Ice cannot be loved.

_Good, pet. Now come to me, pet, there is work to be done._

* * *

Loki watched the woman, the mystery of Elanor Doe. She truly belonged to no one, came from nowhere. From what he could glean from her mind, and from Barton's – she had been found alone, gagged and blindfolded in a top-secret compound, left behind by an unknown party which had raised questions in Russia. She knew nothing, and they knew nothing. She was a medical mystery – an anomaly. Was she born with some sort of mutation that they enhanced – or was she made from scratch?

From what he could tell, she was resilient, a little stronger and a little faster than the average human. What made her so interesting was her cryokinesis, her ice manipulation. She could create, morph, change it. She had even made it snow for him once, filling the dark room with a flurry of soft little flakes.

She was a pretty little pet, a neat parlour trick – and a weapon that he intended to use.

* * *

It became easy, soon enough, to surrender to him.

Surrender everything she knew – not that she knew much. The ins, the outs, any information he deemed necessary he took. Picked out of her with all the subtlety of a butterknife to surgery. It hurt less when she didn't resist. Part of her was already growing heavy and embittered by the guilt, the shame at her betrayal, part of her was growing ever more aware that she wasn't going to be saved again, that she didn't deserve saving anyway, that no one would care.

She hadn't seen Barton since they had left the compound. She didn't know if it was Loki's doing or not. She had no will left to care.

Everything was dark.

She didn't know what was going to happen. Didn't know what was in store, what he wanted from her.

_It doesn't matter, pet._

Of course. Nothing mattered anymore. Just… him.

* * *

She had been given new clothing. Exposing, her arms and her legs exposed to the air, making It harder to control herself – she could feel the ice under her skin, urgent to be expelled, to be used. It swirled over her skin, patterns of white and blue frost, sinful decorum of an ability that brought only destruction.

What for, she still did not know.

He seemed to like it. She knelt at his feet most days, when he dictated, one hand tracing the skin on her neck and her collarbone. His touch was as cold as hers, raising blue on his fingers, and frost on her own. He was like her, and yet nothing remotely close. He was alien, she knew that much – though she wasn't much human herself.

Soon, though, it was just her alone, Loki – and several others, including Clint – gone somewhere, to get something. But she knew now. She knew what she had to do. She had to wait. Then follow. Then fight. There was a plan, always a next step, another instruction. Always something to follow. Even if he wasn't with her.

_I will always be here, pet. I'll be with you. You know what to do._

Yes.

_Good, pet. _

* * *

It was familiar, preparing for a mission.

But the difference was the sudden remoteness of self. It was like a film had been put over her eyes – as Loki seemed to take a deeper hold of her. The SHIELD craft loomed in front of them, and as her stomach gave a nauseating twist she knew why she was being held so tightly. Loki wasn't even allowing her head to move freely so she couldn't take a look over at Clint, the first time she'd been in the same place as him since they'd been taken.

But then her thoughts were being wrenched away from Clint – and focussed sharply on her mission.

_Damage._

_Damage them._

_Do what you must. Destroy and kill and wreak havoc. Freeze them all. You are the ice, you are Frost._

She could hear the familiar snap-whip of Clint preparing his bow, and it provided a faint comfort-

_Destroy and damage and freeze and burn and hurt and-_

There was only the mission. Only obedience.

The back of the jet opened up then, the wind whistling around her and thankfully drowning out her thoughts as her ears struggled to adjust to the sudden volume. The explosion's shockwaves made her jump in her seat, but she stood smoothly, her muscles controlled perfectly. She could feel the heat from the flames licking through the destroyed engine. And then she felt the ice uncoil, spreading through her, turning her frosty and still, standing by Clint's side, but unable to look at him as the jet touched down.

They moved swiftly, silently – none of them needing communication to understand the objective. They fanned out around the vent, waiting and on guard. She didn't stop, striding to mount the metal outcropping. The ice rose in her hands – and with a flex of her wrists, she shot a great blast of ice at the venting – sending it crashing through. She leapt down soundlessly, as the rest of the team followed her. Then they split. Clint took half the group, and leading two of the others – the rest heading for the blown apart engine – she headed down towards the control room. _Fury. She had to get to Fury. Cut the head off the snake. _

**_Cut off one head, and two more shall take its place_**.

She halted momentarily, as the unfamiliar saying echoed in her mind. It was enough to draw the attention of Loki – who clamped down on her again. She kept moving.

* * *

It was the chill that descended on them that was their first and only warning.

Hill wiped away a trickle of blood that momentarily blurred her vision, and straightened suspiciously. It was chaos, so she couldn't be sure of anything – but as goosepimples erupted on her skin, her breath fogging in front of her – she knew.

"Sir, Doe is on board." She threw over her shoulder. Fury stilled, eyes roving the entrance to the control room. It had been torture in of itself, not knowing when their other operative would strike, not knowing what Loki would use her for. She was dangerous – enhanced and with SHIELD training – a threat they couldn't prepare for.

Barton had shut down one of their engines, which meant Doe could only be here to… _kill_.

"Control Team, I need guns in front of the doors, stat! Frost is onboard, I repeat, Frost is onboard and _hostile_!" Hill barked. But there was no response, only static, and she knew that the worst must have been true.

White frost began to build on the doorway, stark against the dark grey. Then, without warning, the first of the hostile team appeared, spear heading her entrance. Hill, Fury and a handful of agents stood, returning fire at the pair.

It was unsettling. Hill knew the woman, had been a part of the strike team into the compound where she had been found, had been a part of her training with SHIELD ever since, even considered the woman a tentative acquaintance. She had never seen the woman look so… well, _cold_, before. Her eyes were an alien turquoise and swirling with an unnatural energy, and her face was blank, even as the two men before her fell. She seemed almost mindless, intent on getting through the door.

As she watched – face blurred behind a wall of ice the woman had erected – Elanor's face twisted with a snarl that was not her own. Throwing caution to the wind, Hill lowered her gun slightly – not ceasing her fire, but trying to catch the woman's eyes. "Face it, Frost! You're not getting in here!" she yelled.

The woman gave a low hiss, sheltered behind her ice – but seemingly unable to process past it. Hill knew that Doe was wily enough to break through the line of fire, but this unfamiliar, mind-controlled Doe wasn't able to think.

"She's not thinking straight." She said to Fury, under the gunfire. Fury didn't even look at her, just grunted. "If we keep up the fire, I think she'll give up. It's not her."

Fury nodded once. "All agents, open fire!" the answering swell in bullets made Doe grit her teeth, before she rebuilt the wall thicker, slinking away. Before long, they shattered the ice, but there was no sight of the woman. After a moment, the temperature began to rise again, the frost on the walls and floor melting. Fury heaved a faint sigh of relief, and lifted his hand to his ear, giving Hill a wordless stare. "Frost and Barton are still active, heading towards the detention level. Does anyone copy?"

The answering voice made both their hearts sink. _"This is agent Romanoff."_ Her voice was shaky, and Hill opened her mouth to respond in the negative, but Fury shook his head insistently, face unreadable. _"I copy."_

* * *

They knew they were being followed. How could they not? They were trained to be the perfect killers, weapons. They knew what it was to hunt, to be hunted. But his pull was strong. Elanor kept moving, even as she heard the first sounds of conflict behind her.

Natasha grappled with Clint, her eyes straying to Elanor's retreating figure. She couldn't let the woman get away. Rolling with the man's momentum, and kicking out powerfully, Natasha managed to stand again, closer to Elanor, close enough so that she could grip at the woman's white-grey hair, and tug, hard.

It was enough, enough for Elanor to process her as the threat that needed dealing with. Natasha felt a thrill of fear as Elanor turned to look at her. Part of her fear was for now being up against two opponents, both which she had trained in some capacity and who knew her moves, but mostly because the two people now moving to engage her were people she treasured. It was frightening to see the savagery in Clint's bared teeth, and the blankness in Elanor's stare as she swung towards her.

The only thing in her favour seemed to be that Elanor wasn't using her ice, perhaps to avoid damaging Clint, as the pair rained down blows on her. Fighting in close quarters, however, wasn't either of their strengths – and Natasha felt nausea bubble in her gut as that red-soaked, dark part of her mind told her exactly how to kill them. She could. She was a killer. _The_ killer. The Black Widow.

But now, she'd taken a blow to the head, and they were on either side of her, and Clint had taken out his knife. Natasha weighed her options, as they moved with each other, a deathly dance. It was made more difficult when they began to move in tandem – more so than they usually did – throwing the knife between themselves without looking, like they were reading each other's minds. But-

Natasha knew Clint, and she knew Elanor – and they were not themselves, those were not their eyes. So if something else was in their heads…

_Then she'd just have to get it out of them._

Determined, she rounded on Elanor – the weakest without her powers active.

Elanor seemed sluggish, face twitching uncontrollably. She looked a little as if she was having a stroke. Natasha reared back, arms caught in Clint's grip, but legs free. With a grunt, and a heave with her core, she kicked her legs up, catching Elanor squarely under the chin. Stumbling, Elanor caught her foot on the fallen bow, and tipped backwards. She hit the walkway with a loud crack, laying still.

Natasha didn't have time to panic over her fallen partner, instead turning all her attention to Clint. He was strong, but she could be stronger.

_She had to be._


	4. Chapter 3: Ruined

**_I sit and count my sins by Chapters'_**

**_Reason counts them all in verse,_**

**_What's said and done can't be undone,_**

**_My fits of folly they do rehearse._**

_Auguries Of Guilt – Mine And Yours, Patrick Scott Hogg_

* * *

Consciousness came back to her slowly, far too slowly to be natural. She felt scrambled, vision blurry and colours muted. And when she could focus, the first thing she saw was Clint.

And then panic gripped her because if Clint was there then she hadn't gotten away – but she was panicking, something she wasn't allowed to do, _couldn't _do when he was there. Where was she – everything was bright, and white and overwhelming, a pain in her skull and her ice building underneath her skin-

"-Hey, hey, hey…" Clint was leaning forwards, putting a hand on her arm, which she realised was strapped to the cot she was in. She struggled against it, panic clawing in her throat, and making her release a strangled cry. "_Elanor_, it's okay." He said vehemently, wincing slightly as her arm grew painfully cold beneath him. But he didn't pull away.

"El." A firm, _familiar_ voice cut through her rising breathing. Natasha stepped into her rapidly tunnelling vision. She was frowning, but she was _there_. "Everything's going to be okay."

"N-Natasha?" she breathed, voice a little croaky from disuse. At her response, Clint huffed a relieved breath. "What- where is he?" she realised then that she was alone in her skull, empty, but for a creeping darkness that was all her own. Guilt, shame, and heavy, heavy realisation settled over her. "Oh _God._ What did I do?" she whispered, hunching over. Natasha was by her side in a moment, one hand deftly undoing her restraints, and the other cradling her chin, lifting her head up so that she was forced to meet her eyes. Clint was grimacing, looking pained. "Natasha – I _killed-"_

"Stop." She said, not unkindly, but firmly. She swallowed visibly, closing her eyes briefly. "El, it wasn't you, it wasn't Clint, it was _Loki_." Elanor couldn't help but shudder at his name, revulsion making her throat tighten with the urge to gag.

"He was _inside me_." She murmured. "Turned me inside out. Made me so _alone._" Natasha's hand moved, pushing back her loose, filthy hair and settling on the nape of her neck, stroking soothingly.

"Did he take you back there?" Natasha, as unnervingly intuitive as always hit right upon it. Elanor could only nod, memories of the years of her life spent in darkness flooding back to her again. She just wanted to curl up, to bury herself in the familiarity of Natasha and Clint. "You're never going back." She said with a note of finality.

"We promised you, remember?" Clint added, shifting closer. Elanor let him take her hand, letting his body heat dispel the lingering chill in her skin.

"But I did go. And I was alone." She whispered. "He made me – I _knew_ that there was no-one." She was barely coherent. Natasha heaved a low breath.

"El, I want to talk about this – we _have_ to talk about this, and we all will together, but-" she sounded reluctant, apologetic, and Elanor knew where it was leading.

"But there's no time." She said lowly. "I know. I know." She said, to reaffirm herself, that it was true, that it was _important_, that they were her friends, that it wasn't true that they just wanted her for her power, that they were more than her handlers.

"You're brave." Clint said, squeezing her hands. "Can you be brave for a little longer?"

She knew it was bordering on babyish, the way they spoke to her, the way they treated her behind closed doors. They were gentle with her, gentler than anything she'd ever known – but was it genuine, or just a way to make her trust them? Whatever it was, she couldn't help but revel in it, nod, and let Natasha brush a fleeting kiss to her temple, let them wait outside the door as she showered and dressed, throwing the stupid outfit he had put her in away before she could process it. Too much midriff, too much cleavage, too much _skin_. At least under the burning shower water, she could push back the ice, that always threatened to escape out of her skin when it was bare.

Her usual uniform was another comfort. Long gloves, short sleeves, ready for combat, dark blue – similar to Hill's usual catsuit, a small hood for anonymity. She pulled it on with trembling fingers, staring at herself in the mirror. Her too pale face stared back, a bruising scab on her chin, pale blue eyes almost unseeing, white hair tangled around her like a cloud. She tugged it back hard enough to make her scalp twinge uncomfortably. She relished the pain.

They were waiting outside for her, flanked her as they walked down the corridors. She pulled up her hood as the eyes began to land on her. Usually she could ignore it, ignore the faint whispering, the looks. But now, they were _intent_, malicious and though she deserved it, deserved everything, she couldn't risk breaking down again. Not now.

For someone who ran so cold, she could never quite grasp the removed battle coolness that Clint and Natasha could fall into, the remote state that let them compartmentalise effectively.

* * *

There was a man on the jet, blue suited, an all-too familiar shield by his side. As she watched, a regular pilot slipped by him, looking cowed. He turned at their footsteps, and Elanor recognized the face of America's Captain.

"Cap, this is Elanor Doe. Elanor, this is Captain Rogers." Natasha introduced them before the air could get tense, Elanor frozen under his intense stare. But Rogers moved first, extending his hand towards her.

"It's good to have you back on our side, Miss Doe." He said, smiling slightly, forgiving. She took his gloved hand in hers.

"Thank you, sir." She whispered, relief unfurling in her stomach.

He blanched slightly. "Call me Steve. Sir is-"

"A little old for you, old man?" Natasha said teasingly as she settled in the co-pilot seat.

"You know what, Romanoff…" Steve began, almost fondly, as the doors closed behind them. Elanor looked between them all. It was always interesting to see what relationships formed under stress.

They were in the air, flying out of range of the radios before anyone could even attempt to contact them, Natasha disabling their long-range communications quickly. It dawned on her, very quickly, what exactly they were going to do. _Fight an army, and a god._

She sat heavily in the wall seat, tucking in amongst the parachutes, trying to steady her breathing. Someone settled beside her. It was Steve, not looking at her, but close enough to her for Elanor to know he had intent. She waited. Sure enough, he spoke. "You know, I remember how I felt before my first battle. I was disobeying orders and storming right into a dust-up I couldn't comprehend."

"I've been on missions before." She said slowly, "But not… not like this." She said quietly, not wanting to draw the other two's attention. Steve nodded.

"I don't know if it means much, if anything but… we'll be right there with you." He said, with all the seriousness of a vow.

"It means… a lot." She said finally. "After what I did-"

Steve's face twisted. "Elanor – may I call you Elanor?" she nodded once, "Elanor, you have to know that no one blames you for that. From what I could tell about you from your file, you could have done a hell of a lot more damage than what you did." It was a clumsy attempt at comfort, and even he seemed to know it, wincing slightly as she ducked her head again. She appreciated it all the same.

"I blame me." She said.

Steve opened his mouth to say more – but a faint warning trill from the jet's navigation system caught all of their attention. "We're here – whoa." Clint's exclamation was flat, worry making his voice monotone. Steve and Elanor stood, hurrying towards the cockpit, and stopping dead at the destruction being laid upon the city, and the column of energy extending towards the sky from the Stark building.

"Stark, we're on your three, headed north-east." Natasha barked into the commset.

"_What did you stop for drive-thru?" _Tony Stark's voice, unmistakable even through the metallic distortion of his suit, came out of their speakers. _"Swing up Park, I'm gonna lay 'em out for you."_

Accordingly, Clint turned left, dipping below the skyline nearly to street level. The resulting acrobatics the jet did nearly upended her, even Steve struggling to stay balanced. Elanor let the ice go, building a steady hold for her feet, cementing herself to the floor as Steve gripped the handles above them. With an explosion, one of their engines was blown out, and Elanor caught a glimpse of Loki, her heart pounding suddenly. Clint wrestled with the jet, as it spiralled out of control.

Their crash landing into the street jolted her enough to make her shins ache, pounding into the ice she'd encased her legs in. As Clint and Natasha unbuckled themselves she pulled it up again, not letting it melt away – instead wrapping it around herself, hardening it over her fists and torso. Armour.

On the ground it was chaos, dust and screams permeating the air – clogging her senses. Her skin was prickling, and she tugged her gloves off, exposing her skin to the air. She could feel frost beginning to build on her skin, but now she didn't stop it. She would need it.

"We've got to get back up there!" Steve called, leading the way around a series of upturned cars, and piles of rubble. A loud, mechanical grumble made them all stop, Elanor's gaze slowly going to the sky – to the portal above them. Her heart sunk as she processed the gigantic form of the alien craft descending upon them. It was easily three times the size of a whale, only vaguely resembling the peaceful creature. This alien was armoured and huge, and ugly – horrifying as it snaked its way through the air towards them, and over their heads – ploughing into a building. From its belly, more of the aliens were expelled, landing on street level, and on buildings – adding to the danger.

They had to take shelter quickly, ducking behind an upside down taxi-cab. From there, they were able to see the group of tightly knit alien craft firing mercilessly upon the street below them. "Loki." Elanor said, catching a glimpse of the gold and green that heralded his armour.

"They're fish in a barrel down there." Steve said, face contorting in rage as he watched the bedlam. But he seemed torn, and as Natasha stood up to return fire, Clint rolling to a better position, Elanor understood.

"It's okay. We've got this." She said quietly to him. He shot her a look, eyes darting from her face, to the icicles forming and dripping around her fingers. Then he turned to her partners.

"Think you can hold them off?"

Clint spared him a smirk, fitting an arrow to his bow. "Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure." He fired, his chain reaction arrow taking down a group of them. She stood as Steve did, turning to face the oncoming aliens. _She could do this, she had to._

She could feel Natasha's eyes on her, pinpointing the odd body heats of the creatures, and lifting her hands. She could create ice, from the very molecules in the air – but it was always easier when she had water. She could feel water underneath them, under the street, the waterways and sewers of the city. Another group of aliens stepped a little too close to their shelter, and it was their mistake. With a low rumbling, cracking and hissing – from the manhole underneath them – a great blast of frost and ice exploded, jagged edges cutting and impaling, the translucent spikes coloured with the blood of the aliens.

Clint gave a quick cheer, and unable to stop herself from looking to Natasha for approval, she found the woman smiling slightly. Elanor turned back to the fight – and immediately, her attention was caught by a surplus of body heat in a crashed bus. "Over there!" she called. "There's civilians inside!" Clint turned immediately, running towards the bus – Natasha standing her ground, both guns in her hands. Elanor stayed where she was as well, moving only a step closer to Natasha, but keeping her eyes on the bus as Clint struggled to open the doors. With another flick of her wrist, ice rushed towards him, solidifying and pushing the doors apart. People came spilling out, eyes wide. Clint smashed a window and began lifting people out – a small child, a woman – countless lives.

She waited until he had joined them again before she turned, pushing up and out, ice flowing through her and out of her at a rate she never had attempted before. But there was no time to worry about the chill that was starting to settle deeper in her bones. Natasha called to them. "This is just like Budapest, all over again!"

"You and I remember Budapest _very_ differently." Clint said offhandedly. Elanor cracked a smile, the small jolt of humour powering her next blast further, the spread of ice thinning and cracking into a dozen little icicles that embedded themselves in the creatures like knives. All too soon, however, the fight got too close, and Elanor found herself grappling with the creatures.

She kept burning cold, making them snarl and screech as they touched her, icicles growing from her knuckles, like claws she could use to kill. Their blood froze on her skin as it splattered her, forming a pattern of blue crystals across her body. Frustration building, as she kept being forced further away from Natasha and Clint, she cried out – ice shooting from her in a tight circle, and freeing her momentarily. Then – Steve was there, shield sparkling despite the dust already coating it. Lightning crackled from the sky – killing a group of the aliens, and leading the way for Thor. His landing was unsteady, and he had to push himself up with a car. But he said nothing, and neither did the others, as they got closer in the little patch of peace.

"What's the story upstairs?" Steve asked Thor seriously.

The god looked angry, but at what, she didn't know. "The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable."

"_Thor's right, we gotta deal with these guys."_ Stark's metallic voice came through their comms, and automatically they looked up as if he would magically appear.

"How do we do this?" Natasha asked, breath short – but visibly controlling her breathing.

Steve looked at them. "As a team."

"I have unfinished business with Loki." Thor's accent was all-too familiar, and she remembered now, the hatred his brother had shared with them. **_Stupid and proud. A brother I never wanted…_**

She bristled. From beside her, Clint shot the blond man a baleful look, re-affixing his arrow heads. "Yeah, well, get in line." As Thor turned to look at them, she could see his eyes on her ice. She was nearly completely iced over now, the air turning to frost on her skin. When she shifted, it crackled.

"Save it." Steve cut in. "Loki's going to keep his fight focussed on us, and that's what we need. Without him, these things could run wild." He marched forwards, turning back to them to see them all. She remembered then, that this was not much different to what he knew – fighting enemies and unspeakable odds. It was comforting to know that there was at least someone who knew what to say. "We've got Stark uptop, he's going to need us to-"

Elanor frowned at the sight of a dishevelled man pulling up on an old motorbike. But she recognised him – from his file at least, even if they had never met before. They all headed towards him, making him look a little taken aback. "So," He got off the bike. "This all seems… horrible."

"I've seen worse." Natasha's low voice made her look at the other woman. She had her deliberately blank face on. Underneath, Elanor knew her well enough to know that she was concealing something else. _What had happened between those two?_

Bruce Banner looked apologetic. "I'm sorry." He said seriously, holding her gaze.

She could see the instant Natasha softened. "No, we could use a little worse."

"Stark, we got him." Steve said.

"_Banner?" _

"Just like you said."

"_Then tell him to suit up. I'm bringing the party to you." _

With those words, the same mechanical groaning rent the air, and they all looked up to see first Stark, rocketing towards them in his gold and red getup, and behind him, the monstrosity from before. Elanor swallowed nervously, and stepped closer to Natasha. Without looking, the woman reached out and brushed lightly against the nape of her neck, dusting off some of the frost that had built there. "I don't see how that's a party." Natasha said, and moved a step closer to her as well.

Stark was flying low, making the creature follow, its belly scraping and gouging the street and destroying everything in its wake. "Doctor Banner." Steve said, as the man in question turned to face the oncoming calamity. "Now might be a really good time for you to get angry."

The doctor gave him an almost tired look. "That's my secret, Captain." He turned back to the creature, face hardening. "I'm always angry." Elanor watched in awe as his skin seemed to ripple and stretch, the transformation smooth. She was transfixed – to the point that she almost forgot to build her shelter, calling another great rush of liquid from below her and out of the manhole, around herself and Natasha – as Stark's well aimed shot to the falling creatures flank made it combust. She could feel the heat of the explosion, and powered ice through, keeping it cold and strong. It was costing her, she could feel it spreading through her as well, turning her insides sluggish and cold. She wasn't sensitive to outside temperature, but inside, it crept over I had never felt it so intensely before.

It was the screeching that made her retract the ice, standing slowly with it cracking away around them.

Natasha stared at her. "El. Are you alright?"

She looked down at herself. Her skin was a pale blue-grey, a result of the cold on the outside and inside, sparkling with hundreds of miniscule ice particles. "I think so." She said slowly. There wasn't time to dwell on it – not as the aliens surrounding them were baying for blood. She stepped back with Natasha, caught between her and Steve, ice building quickly at her feet. She barely needed to focus, it was pouring from I lifted her hand slowly, a great pole of ice forming in her grip, pointed like a spear.

"Guys." She looked to the sky, as more of the goliaths began to pour from the tear in space. Then she looked to Steve, naturally.

"_Call it, Captain_." Stark said.

Steve breathed quietly, but she could see the heat of it, fogging slightly from being so close to her. "Alright, listen up. Until we can close that portal, our priority is containment. Barton, I want you on that roof. Eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays" Clint nodded, eyes still fixed on the sky, "Stark, you got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out; you turn it back, or you turn it to ash."

"Can you give me a lift?" Clint asked, and Stark turned to him, metal face eerily blank.

"_Right. Better clench up, Legolas._" They were gone almost immediately.

Steve turned to the rest of them. "Thor, you gotta try and bottleneck that portal. Slow 'em down." Thor began to swing his hammer, building up momentum and wind around them. "You got the lightning. Light the bastards up." His flight left dust blowing around them. Steve looked to Natasha and Elanor. "Us three, we stay here on the ground. We keep the fighting here." Elanor nodded, eyes already fixed on the aliens descending towards them. "And, Hulk… smash." The resulting grunt of excitement made her lips twitch, as the great, green creature leapt towards the nearest building, grabbing and smashing with no subtlety.

Elanor closed her eyes, searching for every water source she could, gathering it from the air around her, the plumbing in the buildings near her, the waterways beneath her.

She called to it, crooned to it, beckoned it towards her, because she was the maker and the melder, and the very ice itself, and she could understand it.

It came with almighty force.


	5. Chapter 4: Cocooned

**_Those who love to soar the skies,  
Get blinded by the light of Sun,  
Their haughtiness divert their eyes,  
And with their falsehoods, come undone._**

_Pride Goes Before Destruction – Cynthia Buhain-Baello_

* * *

For while they were magnificent, fighting in tandem around the city, holding their ground, and she could sense them, a dull awareness of their body heats and signatures.

She'd taken up position at the end of a main street, near a water feature that had been steadily feeding her with ammunition for her ice.

"_You right there, Frosty?"_

Stark's voice in her ear drew her attention as he flew through her area, shooting down a few of the aliens converging on her. "Perfectly fine, Stark." He touched down near her, and she accepted the help, easing up on her left flank as he took over.

"_We've not been introduced. I'm Tony Stark, and you're Elanor Doe._" He said, and she snorted at his odd 'introduction.' "_Jesus, it's freezing here."_

"Apologies." She said curtly, clenching her fist, and watching as the ice obeying, shrinking in around a group of aliens and crushing them underneath its force.

_"Nah – it's cool. Literally. You've created a pocket of sub-zero. It's like Antarctica here._"

She took a moment to look around, taking in the snow and frost that had been building up on the ground in a radius around her, the shiny ice beneath her feet and the flakes in the air around her. _Huh._ "This hasn't happened before." She said mildly, expelling a blast of frost in a wide arc and knocking back three of them.

Tony laughed sardonically. _"Has any of this happened before?"_ she smiled slightly, and he seemed appeased, powering up his blasters and rising up the ground. "_Keep up the good work, kid. If you're interested, there's civilians trapped two blocks from here_."

It wasn't an order, but Elanor nodded anyway, and expelled another blast on the nearest group before she turned to head in the direction Tony indicated. He zoomed ahead of her and out of sight. She dragged it with her as she walked, the pavement slicking over with ice as she moved, the chill following her, dampening fires and frosting over glass.

She could see them ahead, a group of aliens attempting to enter a bank – the front doors bolted, but through the plexiglass windows, she could see terrified people inside. She drew their attention quickly, shooting an icicle at the skull of the closes – and they rounded on her, snarling and squealing. They rushed her, but slipped on the ice, and uncoordinated, they were easy to pick up, the ice spiking into action almost eagerly – spearing them through and leaving them dangling in the air, like horrifying monuments. She couldn't leave them in there, they weren't safe on the street level. She approached the door, the handle frosting over at her touch, and pushed with all her might, ice splintering through and opening it.

The people inside were staring, wide eyed – but not as afraid as she had thought. "You're not safe here." She said finally, "You need to get off the streets, head for third and get past the perimeter."

"Who are you?" a man demanded. She looked at him, and he flinched back slightly.

"I'm… here to help." She said. "I promise. I will do whatever it takes to keep you all safe." There were phones out now, cameras and eyes on her. There were about thirty of them, old and young alike. She resisted the urge to run away from them all, away from the eyes and the judgements and the danger outside. Rumbles outside made her aware they were running out of time. "You need to go now. Follow me." She turned, hoping that at least some of them would heed her.

In the street, aliens were beginning to gather, coming from both ends. Across the road was the entrance to the subway station. There would be safest. She turned back – and blinked, surprised to see them all gathering behind her, waiting on her. "Um. Across the road. Get to the shelter. I'll provide some cover."

The man from before nodded seriously, and turned to begin spreading the message.

Elanor stepped out into the road. Above her, the sky was grey, storm clouds heavy from Thor's influence. She could feel the rain, heavy and waiting to be used. She hadn't done anything like it before – but the ice whispered to her, ached to be used. She pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and down from the sky, snow began to fall – thick and heavy and sleeting, parting around her and turning the air opaque. The wind picked up around her, the snow not soft flakes, but hail-like, sharp and biting. The civilians took the cue, running, and keeping low to the ground – as the aliens, hidden and blinded by the snowstorm, began to open fire. They disappeared quickly into the subway station, and Elanor felt a wave of relief wash over her.

Elanor knew she should let go of the storm, it was powerful, and growing and soon it would be untameable as it drained her strength. But she couldn't deny the heady rush it filled her with, as she pulled it closer to herself. It was a shield, the powerful wind building pushing away the bolts of energy, absorbing it into itself, turning the ice-flakes blue. Slowly, she began to rise from the ground – floating in the eye of her snowstorm. This was power. This was _exultation_.

It was her undoing – and as her storm grew, destruction following it – it drew the attention of a goliath.

"_Frosty! You've got a big bad coming right for you – drop the snow!"_

_"El – get out of there, they're converging-"_

_"Elanor-"_

She tuned them out, because there was nothing that could touch her now. For all the aliens she was pulling out of the sky – it was big, and Elanor grew aware of its approach too late. It crashed into the street, flying through her storm, and towards her. It didn't seem to care that it was heading right for the ground, a kamikaze flight path.

Somehow, the ice responded to the panic that blazed through her – and it coalesced around her as the creature crashed into her, burying into the creature, surrounding her, forming a barrier around her even as they collided.

Somehow – there was lightning in the air around her, and the last thing she saw as she crashed into the street below, her ice shattering around her and sending her skidding along, head colliding painfully with the concrete – was the flashes of white power and a red flicker.

Her world went dark, with Natasha's panicked voice in her ear.

* * *

"-Wake up, little lady."

Elanor fought against the darkness – eyes opening blearily. At first, all she could see was a mush of colour and motion, before a hand waved in front of her face, focussing her gaze. Thor was hovering over her, looking worried. Steve was standing above them, eyes on the sky. Elanor ached, all over, a deep cold in her bones.

"Stark, you know that's a one-way trip." Steve's face was worried, and Elanor knew something was very wrong.

"Wha…" she attempted, exhaustion making her tongue heavy. Thor hummed, patting her head. Her vision was blurry – but she was able to make out the shining gold and red flash of Tony's armour, as he went up, up and out of sight, flying straight into the portal. Clutched in his grip was a horrifying shape – a missile – and Elanor shuddered at the implication of what could have happened. Steve hung his head, and Thor let out a sigh. Elanor kept her eyes on the sky – hoping beyond hope. There had been too much death already-

Around them, the aliens began to drop like stones – as if they were puppets, and their strings were severed. Elanor struggled to right herself, half-caught in the stupor of fatigue and half impeded by her body's literal refusal to move. Thor knelt beside her, gently assisting I leant on him heavily, too distracted to feel shame, as he propped her up.

"Is it over?" she rasped.

Steve grit his teeth. "Close it." He said lowly – and in the next second, the portal beam shuddered and stuttered, before stopping. The hole in the sky closed, and Elanor felt a sob rise in her throat – catching at the sight of a familiar red-gold gleam. "Son of a gun." Steve said, voice raw in his relief.

But Elanor could see something was wrong. "He's not slowing down!" she said urgently, and looked to Thor. The god began to swing his hammer – picking up momentum – when another shape flew for Tony's falling body. The Hulk cradled the man to himself, crashing to earth with a shudder. Thor scooped her up, her breath jerking out of her in a surprised wheeze, as the three of them hurried towards their fallen teammates.

"Is he breathing?" Steve asked, ripping off Tony's face plate, and staring at him. Elanor searched desperately for a sign of life, hovering her hand above his chest, trying to find his body heat. It was fading – weak and barely warm. She closed her fist slowly, withdrawing it to her side and bowing her head. Death was not new to her. But it somehow felt worse like this.

The loud roar of the Hulk made her jump – heart skipping a beat, both from the noise, and the gasp that came from the unmoving man, as his eyes flew open. She could feel the sudden spark in his body heat, the whir of his internal functions sparking to life, his glowing heart reigniting in front of them.

"What the hell!" Tony gasped, staring at them. "What just happened?" he asked, eyes wide. She leant closer, biting back a grin. "Please tell me nobody kissed me." She couldn't help it, and let out a giggle, making the men look at her, Steve smiling slightly. She leant down, pressing a quick kiss to the man's forehead, still laughing. A ridiculous man.

"We _won_." She whispered to him, his wide eyes softening from their delirious surprise.

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly. "Alright, yay!" he raised a weak fist. "Hurray. Good job, guys. Let's just not come in tomorrow, let's just… take a day. Have you ever tried shawarma?" he asked wildly. Elanor grinned again, swaying back on her haunches and leaning into Steve, trying to keep her eyes open. He rested a gentle hand on her shoulder, comforting and steadying her. "There's a shawarma joint, about two-blocks from here. I don't know what it is, but I want to try it."

"We're not finished yet." Thor's eyes were still fixed on the Stark tower, face dark.

There was a pause, each of them readying themselves for the confrontation to follow. Tony cleared his throat. "And then… shawarma after." He said. Steve ducked his head, smiling.

"Whatever you want, pal."

* * *

It was difficult, to make her way to the tower, even flying with Thor, cradled in his arms.

She _hurt_, and she was _cold_ – deep inside. Her skin hadn't faded from the blue-grey, but she couldn't find the energy to even summon a snowball. She was just so _tired._

Natasha and Clint met her on the balcony, faces worried. Clint wrapped her in a tight hug, making them both groan in pain, but neither of them backed away. After looking behind herself, to make sure they were alone, Natasha cradled Elanor's face in her palms, stroking over her cheekbones. "You're so cold, _мышка._" She murmured. Elanor just nodded, a chill making her teeth chatter. "You need to get inside, in the warmth." Natasha wrapped an arm around her shoulders, shooting Clint a worried look over her head.

_Pathetic._

That was the first thought she had, as she saw him, cowering there. After everything, after all the darkness, the rage – there he was. Defeated and trembling before them. She felt a dull, sickening hatred rise in her, and she had the dark thought to split his skull – to grow an icicle through his eye socket and crack his bones, lay his brains bare for _her_ to pick through this time.

"If it's all the same to you… I think I'll have that drink now." He said, attempting a smile. She had to turn away, the itch to _kill_ growing too great.

She hadn't realised she had hit the ground, forehead against the last surviving pane of glass in the tower, staring seemingly out onto the horizon. Now – thankfully – her mind was blank, empty. She was too tired to think.

Later, she knew, it would come rolling in. Wave after wave of every dark thing she had seen and felt.

For now, she blessed the blankness, the shock – even if it came with the cold, and the pain.

Something heavy and warm settled over her. Her movements were delayed, fingers coming up first to touch the material of the thing. It was soft, and red. She looked up, to see Thor leaning against the wall beside her, capeless. He didn't look at her, keeping his eyes on his brother. Across the room, Natasha was on call with Fury, Tony drinking the remains of a half-shattered bottle of liquor. Clint was looming over Loki, one hand on his bow. The Hulk had gone, presumably to transform back into Banner, and Steve was sitting with his head between his knees, looking exhausted, though he had his shield at arms reach. Loki didn't move, staring with the same emptiness she felt at the city outside. Her stomach roiled the longer she looked at him, so she closed her eyes, burying herself into the cape further. Cocooned, it was easy to fall asleep, the red fabric a barrier between the horrors of the outside world, and her.

For once, she welcomed the dark – let sleep take her far away.


	6. Epilogue: Rebirth

**_I find no peace, and all my war is done.  
I fear and hope. I burn and freeze like ice.  
I fly above the wind, yet can I not arise;  
And nought I have, and all the world I season._**

_I Find No Peace – Sir Thomas Wyatt_

* * *

The aftermath of saving the world seemed to Elanor, to be a little like getting up after a wild, wild, party. There was clean up to be done, things to be said, secrets to be kept – but before all of that – sleep.

Elanor slept for two-and-a-half days.

When she awoke, in a cot that was not her own, but familiar because it was SHIELD issued – it felt like time had been on fast forward. Already, Loki's fate had been decided, already, the state were counting the bodies, already, monuments were up mourning the dead.

She travelled with Natasha and Clint to the send off. She didn't have to go – Clint had made it very clear, that she was allowed to stay back on base if she wanted. She had wanted to stay. But she knew she needed to see him go. If not – he would just haunt her even more.

It was strange – to see the outside world again. She had almost forgotten what the sun looked like, how it felt on her skin. Her skin was, thankfully, back to normal – the over extension of her abilities had apparently caused the frostbitten appearance – and slowly but surely, as her core temperature went back to normal, so had she. At least on the outside.

She still felt scrambled.

Clint opened her door for her, and she took his hand – more for comfort than necessity – as she got out, not letting go as they approached the others. The all looked… cleaner for one. Without the blood and grime on their faces, it was easier to smile at them. They looked more peaceful. She was almost jealous.

She still couldn't look directly at Loki.

But as Thor turned to face them, she could feel his eyes on her.

She shifted, must have made some sort of unhappy sound, because then Natasha and Clint were beside her, and she turned her face into Clint's shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Clint whispered.

"I'll be better when his ugly alien ass gets off my planet." She whispered back, making him chuckle fondly. With them beside her, she felt a little braver, and looked back at the two Asgardians. Thor nodded to her, and she smiled, waving goodbye.

Loki's eyes were as cold as her ice – but they were distant, dreading. For a moment, she thought she saw fear flicker in their green depths, as Thor activated the tesseract. Then, as quickly as the portal sucked them up – they were gone. She let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, swaying slightly.

_He was gone_.

Natasha gave her a brief squeeze, before she turned to head to the car, saying her goodbyes. Elanor turned to Steve, who was already walking towards her. "It was a pleasure, Elanor, I'm sure we'll see each other soon-" he cut off with a faint huff of air, as she threw her arms around him, hugging him tight.

"Thank you for everything, Steve." She said gruffly, fighting a sudden rush of emotion. She didn't understand it. It wasn't like they were never going to see each other again. Steve's arms came up around her anyway, and hugged her back.

"Of course." He said, and released I stepped back dutifully, letting Clint say goodbye. An arm threw itself around her shoulders, and she jumped in surprise, turning in the loose grip to see Tony.

He was grinning. "Listen, snowball, I just want you to know that there'll be a place at the tower for you. Anytime." She smiled back at him.

"Thanks, Tony. I appreciate it."

"I appreciate _you_. And I'd appreciate you even more, if you donated some time to a study. It would be _very _interesting to work out how your winter-wonderland works-"

"Lay off, Tony, she's just a kid. Not a lab rat." Bruce smiled at her timidly. She beamed at him thankfully.

"Eh, she's not that young. You're what- twenty, twenty-one?"

She shrugged. She honestly had no idea. She didn't know her birthdate, her name, or anything about herself beyond what SHIELD knew. "I guess. I'm not sure."

Tony's eyes softened. "We'll work it out." He said, an off-hand comment that sounded like a promise. He gave her a squeeze and ruffled her hair. "Be off with you then!" he gently pushed her back towards Clint, throwing his arm around Bruce instead, who flinched before settling.

"See you, Tony. Bye, Bruce!" she called to the retreating scientists. Tony threw up a peace sign without looking back, but Bruce turned to wave at I turned back to Clint. He was staring at the sky, face unreadable with his dark sunglasses on. Quietly, she moved to stand next to him.

For a moment, they stood in silence, then, finally he spoke. "El, Fury's given us some not-so-optional leave. You're welcome to stay with Nat on base, but I'm going down to the farm, I'm going to… stay with Laura for a while. I just wanted you to know that you can come too, if you want." Elanor fixed her eyes on the cloudless blue as well. She'd only met Laura once, a long time ago – when she had come upstate to see Clint. She knew that he had kids now, a boy and a girl, and that the farm was his sanctuary. "I think it'll be good for you to get away. And I'm not supposed to tell you, but Laura's already made up the guest bedroom."

Elanor smiled slightly, leaning her head briefly against him. "I guess I have to come then. Can't disappoint Laura." He grinned, putting his arm around her shoulder.

"Good girl." He said, and they walked back to the car together. Natasha was waiting, smiling gently – the small smile she saved only for them.

"I guess I won't be seeing much of you two for a while." She said, and held out her arms. Elanor fell into them easily, relishing her strong body, her familiar warmth. Clint hugged the pair of them too, long arms wrapping around them.

In-between them, it was safe. In-between them, she felt loved.


End file.
